Itās the heavy throb behind his eyes that tugs at the oblivion cradling his skull like black velvet. Words are beyond him - time and place nebulous. Far from new but it doesnāt stop the way he freezes - listening. He hearsā¦ breathing. His own. Somewhere, a room or two away, is the muted tock of a clock pendulum. He cannot hear traffic nor any other movements. At least, not until a sudden weight drops on his chest and his eyes fly open to seeā¦ a cat. Face coloring is a perfect divide between jet black and tiger orange. Chimera, his brain supplies while all other thought remains trapped behind a wall. His fingers lift to stroke down one black cheek and the creature erupts into purring - eyes folding into pleased crescents as it pushes its round head into his palm.
His voice is raspy but not as bad as heād have thought. Attention roving beyond his new friend, Dream spots a small table next to the bed heās occupying. On it rests a floral lamp and a collection of full water bottles. And, he squints, a bottle of paracetamol. Unease flutters again, though not as urgently as it had upon first waking.
He contemplates sitting up. Contemplates again while the cat edges further into his space - curling its warm body against his ribs.
These arenāt his clothes.
This is enough to push the haze fully from his head and, ignoring that abused mew from the cat, Dream shoves aside the duvet and stumbles off the far side of the bed. His knees hit hard on the rug while one arm slings over the mattress. His breathing is a bellow in his lungs and he scans the room with eyes wide and stinging raw.
With the hand not invested in holding him up, he pats at his pockets. No phone. No wallet. Not even the folded packet of condoms that he keeps on him at all times. He swallows in a stiff jerk.
Nobody to blame but himself, really.
āDream, how many times does it take waking up strung out in a strange bed before you never wake up again?ā
His sisterās voice rings with a demanding question that echoes from their last conversation a month prior. He hadnāt answered then. She deserved better than to carry her concern for him like a millstone around her neck. Better to not concern herself at all. None of their other siblings did.
He couldnāt remain cowering behind the bed all day.
Standing was unpleasant and he left it at that. Best not to have to repeat it by falling. Rather than attempt scrambling across the bed, he took the long way round until he stood before the table.
Water bottles - four in total. Dream cracked open the lid on one and swept up the bottle of pain meds. New bottle - still sealed around the top. He struggled it open and, fishing out the wad of cotton, took three. He finished the water in several swallows and managed not to cough it back up.
And then he saw the note.
We donāt really know each other. I was at the pub last night and saw you come in with your friends. I assume they were your friends at any rate. You looked as though you werenāt having a good time at that was before they started ordering beers. About an hour into it they left. I donāt know what happened between you and it isnāt really my place butā¦ you might need new friends, mate.
Anyway, sorry for rambling. You were barely walking by the time the pub was closing down and, again, not my place, but I didnāt care for the look of the bloke trying to drag you to his car. So Iā¦ might have said I was your brother.
Youāre at my place, in case you havenāt realized it by now. I own the loft above the New Inn - of which Iām one of the investors. Youāre welcome to stay as long as you like. Iāll be gone until 3pm. Thereās water here, and some pain medication. If youāre hungry thereās food in the kitchen. Youāre welcome to anything you like. Or you can go downstairs and the girl at the bar, Luce, will get you anything you want off the menu. (Maybe skip the beer, though).
Your things are in the top drawer of the table and thereās extra money in your wallet for a cab. Or, if you want, you can stay till I get home and we could have lunch. Not me being a creep, I just thoughtā¦ maybe you could use a better friend. Your clothes are washed and folded in the bathroom.
Oh, and if a weird ball of fluff runs by, itās just Murphy. Heās pretty shy around other people so donāt feel bad if he hides in the cabinet.
It was nice almost meeting you. I wouldnāt mind making it official. If you want.
Dream held the paper in both hands.
He didnāt really blame his group for leaving him behind. Heād been the one to pressure them to stop at that particular pub last night. He knew the manager, Mervyn, and could always count on him to provide something to add a soft distance to his nights. But Mervyn hadnāt been there and his group found the atmosphere dull and none of them were at fault for that.
The paper crinkled between his fingers. He loosened his grip - letting it slip out - slip free - drifting in an arc that fell to the bed where Murphy swatted at it.
āBetter that you forget me, Hob.ā He whispered.
Scooping up his things, Dream stopped briefly to change clothes - folding the oversized tee and joggers just as neatly as his own clothes had been.
Then, bending to give Murphy a stroke on the head, he slipped out the back door and made his way down the outside stairway.
Heād make it up to Hob, somehow. Perhaps he could cajole his sister to deliver a gift of some sort. Afterwards, he would do the best possible thing and stay far away from this kind man.
